


I'll Be Fine (I'm Only Screaming In My Head)

by Saral_Hylor



Series: the mortar will hold. it's the bricks that are crumbling [1]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Hurt Steve, M/M, Rape Aftermath, Steve Feels, Tony Feels, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, he just doesn't always know the best ways of showing it, mentions of past rape/non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-18
Updated: 2013-11-18
Packaged: 2018-01-01 23:31:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1049868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saral_Hylor/pseuds/Saral_Hylor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was all Fury’s fault. Or at least, Tony wished he could blame Fury, since he was the one that insisted that they sat through the Bullying and Sexual Harassment in the Workplace awareness training. He wanted to blame the presentation too, and S.H.I.E.L.D’s policy that everyone had to attend. But the only people who were responsible where likely dead, and even Tony Stark couldn’t go back seven decades and get vengeance on people he’d never known.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll Be Fine (I'm Only Screaming In My Head)

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by [quandong_crumble](http://archiveofourown.org/users/quandong_crumble/pseuds/quandong_crumble)
> 
>  
> 
> One day, Steve and Tony just appeared in my head, part way through an argument, and all I had was Steve saying one line, and sounding so bitter and resentful. And then it took about three weeks before he finally told me the rest of his story, so I wrote it.  
> Please don't hate me.

The loss of the shoulder pressed against his was the first indication that something was wrong, though if he was honest, Tony might have been sleeping through the presentation rather than paying attention, so it took him a moment to notice. He looked around, the door at the back of the room was closing, giving him some idea of where Steve, who’d previously been sitting next to him, had gone. Maybe a toilet break, though he hardly believed that, Steve would never interrupt a S.H.I.E.L.D. scheduled presentation for something as trivial as his bladder.

He was going to ignore it, Steve was a big boy after all, and if he didn’t feel like sitting through the bullying and sexual harassment in the workplace awareness training S.H.I.E.L.D. was making them do, then that was up to him. However, when he turned back to look at the front of the room, Fury was glaring at him, a look that quite clearly said that whatever he had done to Steve, he needed to fix it. Feeling rather miffed that Fury always assumed it was his fault, he rolled his eyes in response, but still slid out of aisle and made his way out the door at the back of the room.

Steve was in the hallway, pacing the width of it, hands clenched to fists at his sides, looking every bit like he was about to punch the wall. He stopped as soon as he saw Tony and stood rigid, face masked with what Tony had come to think of his battle face, eyebrows pinched together, lips tight and jaw set. His eyes, though, were too large, too uneasy, not guarded nearly as well as he thought, and Tony just couldn’t ignore that.

It was uncharted territory. This thing between them was still new, fragile, a fledgling relationship, and he wasn’t about to screw it all up, not this time. Captain America just wasn’t the one you let get away. So, he went in with usual Stark grace, crowd smile firmly in place, picking humour as the mood of the day. “These things, hey Cap, make you sit through them every year. Seems even super heroes aren’t exempt from all the political correctness that’s in vogue now days.”

Steve blinked, shoulders tensing more, and it looked like it was all just going to get worse, not better. But then, Steve drew in a short breath, and his hands unclenched. “World’s got such different ideas of what’s acceptable and what isn’t these days. I agree with a lot of it, but, some things are best kept to yourself, aren’t they? Never had this sort of thing in my da... Well, you know, before. Back then, you didn’t talk about it. Men certainly never would have said anything, and certainly not to strangers, just because they got hurt once. It happened, but you picked yourself up and you kept going. Didn’t talk about it, and certainly didn’t make such a fuss over it.”

He felt a bit like he’d been smacked across the back of the head. By Thor. Or probably Natasha. He knew Steve still had some old fashioned ideas, like going on dates, and doing little else other than hold hands. But only if he initiated it, every time Tony tried to touch him first, he’d jerk away like he’d been burnt. That statement, however, was not something he ever expected Steve to say. So much for defender of the weak. He couldn’t help the edge of anger that cut through in his voice, because, occasionally, he was proud of the steps forward society had made, how different it even was when he was growing up, how people could stand up for themselves, and if they needed it, there was support there. “Make a fuss? How terribly archaic of you there, Cap. Times have changed, it shouldn’t be a big shame fest, and there shouldn’t any victim blaming, though that still happens. Talking about things like that helps sometimes.”

Steve bristled all over again, hands clenched, knuckles white, and for a moment he looked like he was about to throw himself through the wall, just to get away, but instead his eyes grew hard, and he spat out his rebuttal. “Not talking about it has worked just swell for me so far!”

The world stopped spinning and started plummeting through space. Logically, Tony knew that was impossible, but he felt like his world was hurtling towards the sun and there was nothing he could do to prevent it. He was a genius, he got exactly what Steve was saying. Or what he wasn’t saying. One line held far too much meaning, and he didn’t know what to do with those words. “Steve?”

He needed to say more. He knew he did. Needed to say something that would take away that haunted look that he could see creeping in to the corners of Steve’s eyes. That lost look he always had when they’d first met, when he’d been thrown into the future and had left his past behind. It wasn’t the past being left behind though, not that time. It was the past catching up. “What happened?”

“What does it matter, Tony?” Steve’s voice had lost some of its bite, but was still too guarded. “It’s in the past.”

Steve turned and started to walk away, shoulders too rigid and back too straight; everything about his posture looked painfully controlled. Tony Stark, though, had never been one to just quit. There was a problem, a puzzle to solve, and he had to know the answer, had to pick at the scab until he found out what made Steve bleed. That was why he followed, why there was no option but to follow.

“It could help. You might be surprised.” The words were out of his mouth as soon as he’d bailed Steve up at the elevator, waiting for it to arrive. He knew it was hypocritical of him, to want someone else to talk about their secrets, when he kept his own, but this was something he didn’t know about Steve. Something that wasn’t in his file.

Steve shot him a disapproving look, but, to his credit, he didn’t walk away. “It takes a lot to surprise me these days.”

“Just try? It’s me, Steve, you can talk to me.” It was a bit of a desperate attempt. But there was pain there, buried deep, someone had hurt Steve, hurt _his_ Steve, and it wasn’t like he could go back in time and take that pain away, to stop whatever happened from happening. Talking and being there for Steve now were the only things he could do.

The elevator doors opened, and when he followed him inside, Steve let out his best ‘disappointed sigh’. “Why do you even want to know, Tony?”

He couldn’t help it, he stepped closer, reaching out to touch Steve, hands on his arms, deliberately ignoring the way he flinched, and refusing to remove his hands. “Because I give a fuck, Steve. I kind of care about you, a lot, idiot, and I want to help you.”

Steve blinked at him once, then shook his head, eyes settling on a point behind Tony, very deliberately not looking at him. “It was before the war. Before the serum. I came across these fellas one night, giving this nice dame a hard time. I knew her, she’d been one of Bucky’s girls for a time, but even if I hadn’t known her, it wouldn’t have mattered. They had designs on her, making advances that she didn’t want, and I interrupted, got in the way and gave her a chance to get away. They didn’t take to kindly to it.”

Tony watched as Steve swallowed forcibly, eyes still locked on a point on the other side of the elevator, voice almost entirely void of emotion, like he was giving a mission statement, not recounting some terrible experience. He couldn’t bring himself to say anything, though, just waited, and hoped Steve would continue.

“They said, if they couldn’t get what they wanted from her, they’d get it from me. There was four of them, I tried to fight them off, but I wasn’t strong enough, not back then, not like after the serum. And when they’d finished, one of them, the one who did all the talking,” Steve paused, breathing more ragged than before, his voice turning from emotionless, to bitter. “When they’d finished, he just ruffled my hair, like I was some little kid, and told me I ‘took it like a champ’ and they just left me there.”

His chest hurt, his lungs felt like they had been blocked off entirely by the arc reactor, and he could feel all the shrapnel in his chest moving, and ripping, and piecing his heart, killing him, only it wasn’t. The arc reactor was still working, he was still breathing, but his heart felt like it was being torn from his chest, replaced only by anger. He wanted to find those people, he wanted to hurt them, each of them, make them pay for what they did, if he thought there was a chance that it’d take that haunted, hurt look out of Steve’s eyes.

“Steve...” He wanted to wrap his arms around him, hold onto him and never let go. He wanted to build a suit for him, to protect all those fragile parts of him, and hold him together until things didn’t hurt anymore. He wanted to be that suit, to protect Steve, even though Steve had the serum, and far more strength than he had, and he didn’t need someone to look after him. He didn’t need someone touching him, kissing him, trying to sleep with him and constantly reminding him of the horrors he’d suffered. He was backing away, giving him space, because that had to be what Steve needed. “I’m so sorry. I, what can I do? There are support groups, these days, you know that, right? People who can help, who you can talk to. Statute of limitations is up, but we can still report it, if you want.”

Steve’s whole body went rigid again, eyes fierce, no longer haunted, just betrayed and angry. “Stop coddling me, Tony. It happened. They pushed me down, I got back up again, like I always did. I got over it. I’m not going to break apart now, just because some new age head doctors think that a fella has to talk about his feelings.”

The anger in Steve’s voice made him lash out back at him, he knew he shouldn’t have, it wasn’t Steve’s fault, but the idiot just wouldn’t let him help. Steve was broken, and hurt, and too stubborn to let him try to fix him. “If you’re so over it, then why do you tense up every time someone touches you?”

“That’s got nothing to do with it.” The battle face was back, the spite and self-righteousness from when they’d first met.

It had everything to do with it, he could see by the set of Steve’s jaw, the way the tendons in his neck stood out. He’d found the right buttons to push, even when he didn’t really want to. He didn’t want to hurt Steve, but he couldn’t stop. “You flinch, even now. Or is it just me then?”

“Sometimes things aren’t about you, Stark!”

 _“How is this now about me?”_ _“I’m sorry, isn’t everything?”_ it echoed inside his head, the argument on the Hellicarrier. Months on, and they still knew all the right words to cut each other with. He couldn’t let it happen though, couldn’t let their tentative relationship fall apart. He didn’t deserve Steve Rogers, he’d be the first to admit it, but it didn’t mean he wanted to let him go. Especially not now, when he’d poked and prodded until Steve was raw and bleeding and he’d made him drag up old horrors. “No, this is about us, Steve, the two of us. I’m not saying we sit down, hold hands and sing Kumbaya. I’m not saying you have to talk about your feelings, but, fuck, I can’t even touch you without you freaking out on me, and denying it isn’t convincing me otherwise. I can’t touch you, can’t do… anything else...”

Steve’s hand slammed against the emergency stop button on the panel of the elevator, causing the whole thing to jerk to a halt. Tony couldn’t help but take a step back. The expression on Steve’s face was one he’d never seen before, one he didn’t know how to read at all. It wasn’t just pain, or just anger, or determination. It was fierce, dangerous, broken and feral, but still something so much more than that. And it was his fault that that expression was even there.

“That what this is really about? You just want to get your leg over? You want to fuck me, then just do it!” Even as the words filled the room, his hands were moving, fingers unfastening his belt, body practically vibrating with anger. Steve tugged viciously at the button and zipper fly of his jeans, stitches pulling through denim before he finally managed to get them undone.

Tony couldn’t think straight, so far out of his depth that it felt like he was drowning. He didn’t do emotions any better than Steve, didn’t exactly open up and ask for help, and he wasn’t a psychologist, but he was pretty sure that this wasn’t ‘fine’ behaviour. It was the way that Steve’s knuckles went white around the waistband of his jeans that made him snap back out of his mind. He crossed the little bit of space between them, knocked Steve’s hands out of the way and caught both sides of the jeans’ open front and pulled them back together. He didn’t trust himself to try and do them back up, just held them together, knuckles pressed against Steve’s taut stomach. “Fuck, stop. No. Jesus, that’s not what I want. Well, yes, but no, not like this. Steve. Just. Jesus, fuck, just please, don’t do this?”

He wasn’t sure what he was asking, and he knew he should back off and give Steve some more room. Steve’s breathing was ragged, eyes wide and full of too many warring emotions, his whole body rigid. It was dangerous but he leant closer, pressing his lips to Steve’s, hard enough that Steve would be able feel him, hard enough to be reassuring but not pushy. He rocked back away again, and his heart skipped slightly when Steve started to chase his lips. “We do this in our own time, when you, and I, are both ready. Don’t have to do this just to prove some point. I’ll give you space if that’s what you wan...”

“No.” The growl startled them both, if Steve’s tensing was anything to judge by. “Don’t treat me like some kind of leper, Tony. I lived with this just fine before. I will keep living with this just fine from now on. If you don’t want to be fine with it, or can’t, that’s your prerogative. I won’t think any less of you if you don’t want to be with me anymore.”

It felt like Steve had ripped the arc reactor right out of his chest, the air was punched out of his lungs at the very notion that Steve would think he’d run away from this. His fingers tightened around Steve’s jeans and it wasn’t until he felt his hands caught between their bodies that he realised he’d been pulling them closer together. “I might pretty much fail at relationships, I don’t have a brilliant track record, but I’m not about to run away.” He hesitated a moment, slowly worked his hands free, then after another moments deliberation, he hooked his arms around Steve’s waist, careful to keep his hands towards the middle of his back. “I want this to work.”

Steve had that pinched look on his face, brows pulled together, mouth set, jaw clenched. It took a moment, and Tony could see every slight change, the shift in his temples when his jaw clenched, the muscles working in his neck, and dip and rise of his Adams apple when he swallowed, and then his features soften slightly. It caught him off guard when Steve shifted an arm to circle his shoulders, his other hand stroking his hair back from his face.

Steve tilted his head, pressing his lips to Tony’s forehead, fingers still stroking through his hair, as though he was the one who needed comforting. “You’re a good man, Tony Stark. It’s too bad that there aren’t more men like you.”

He didn’t know what to do with that statement, or what he could only hear as a reference to the ‘bad’ men who’d hurt Steve. The self-deprecating laugh that rattled out of his chest was automatic, built on too many years of shielding his real emotions away from the world. “I don’t think the world could handle more than one of me.” It wasn’t time for humor, his brain was shouting at him to stop and go back to trying, and failing, to comfort Steve, but it was too late, the words were already out there.

It surprised him when he felt Steve’s lips drag up into a small smile, even as they stayed pressed to his forehead. “Maybe not. But I’m glad that, since there is only one of you, you want to be mine.”

He felt like he should try to steer them back onto the subject, but with the smile, Steve’s body had also relaxed, and maybe it was better not to push his luck. Steve was strong, he’d been strong even before he’d shot up on super soldier serum in some dodgy basement. If Steve wanted to ignore that it had ever happened, then all he could do was let him, and watch, and wait, and be there to help fight away the memories if they ever came back again.


End file.
